Chapter 4 - Bloodlines and Bullets"Driver, turn around. Now," Dante commanded, his voice exploding with a terrifying fury that made the chauffeur slam his foot on the gas, throwing the heavy Escalade into a sharp, screeching U-turn across Madison Avenue.
I grabbed the overhead handle, my heart in my throat. "What's happening? Who is trying to take Orion?"
"Vance," Dante growled, his hand sliding beneath his coat to grip the heavy black grip of a custom-engraved Beretta pistol. He checked the magazine with a practiced, lightning-fast motion. "Julian Vance. The head of the Chicago syndicate. He’s been trying to dismantle my shipping routes in the North Atlantic for six months. If he realizes Orion is unsecured..."
"Wait, you're taking me with you into a gang war?!" I gasped, my panic finally breaking through the shock. "Let me out of this car! Drop me off at the nearest subway station!"
"No," Dante replied flatly, his gray eyes locking onto mine with absolute, terrifying possession. "Julian Vance's men know who I am. If they saw you touch Orion last night—and they did have spotters in that restaurant—your life became forfeit the moment you walked out those doors. You are safer inside my fortress than you are anywhere else in this city."
My breath hitched. The terrifying reality of my situation crashed down upon me. I wasn't just an ordinary waitress anymore. By petting a dog and sharing a rare genetic marker, I had stepped onto a battlefield I didn't even know existed.
Twenty minutes later, the Escalade roared through the wrought-iron security gates of a massive, fortified limestone mansion nestled along the Tribeca waterfront. The estate was surrounded by ten-foot stone walls, security cameras, and armed guards sprinting toward a heavy reinforced side door.
The vehicle slammed to a halt before the main entrance. Dante flung his door open before the car had even fully stopped.
"Stay in the back. Do not touch the door handle," Dante ordered over his shoulder, his voice leaving zero room for debate.
"I'm not staying here to be a sitting duck!" I argued, reaching for the latch.
Dante whirled around, his massive frame blocking my exit. His hand shot out, catching my wrist with a grip that was firm but surprisingly not bruising. His face was inches from mine, his gaze burning with an intense, hypnotic heat.
"Listen to me, Olivia," he whispered fiercely. "I spent my entire life losing people I care about. I am not losing the only person my dog trusts—and I am damn sure not losing the ghost my bloodline has been searching for for twenty years."
Before I could process the dizzying weight of his words, Dante turned and sprinted toward the mansion's private kennel wing, drawing his pistol as he disappeared around the corner.
Inside the quiet, heavily padded interior of the Escalade, I sat frozen. My chest heaved, my mind racing a million miles an hour.
Crack! Crack!
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Two sharp, muffled gunshots echoed from inside the estate.
Without thinking, driven by a sudden, irrational surge of panic, I pushed the car door open, ignored Dante's direct order, and ran out onto the cobblestone courtyard toward the sound of the gunfire.
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